| I just want to see my little kids on Christmas
|
| But I’m not so sure that my kids want to see me
|
| They live with their mom in Alabama
|
| And I live with my girlfriend in Nashville, Tennessee
|
| My Christmas-crazy girlfriend’s parents love me
|
| And like her they’re both full of yuletide cheer
|
| And warmly they expect me at their family Christmas party
|
| So I go awhile and fake a smile and drink and drink and drink
|
| And sit and think
|
| Man I wish my kids were here
|
| Christmas Eve come quickly
|
| And Christmas morning go
|
| Cause I long to hand them presents
|
| And watch their faces glow
|
| The judge says if I call them
|
| Then I’ll go straight to jail
|
| But I can send them presents through the mail
|
| Now it’s Christmas morning
|
| And I can’t get out of bed
|
| And I’m ruining her favorite day of the year
|
| She makes us both some breakfast
|
| And brings all the gifts to bed
|
| So for her I try to go along
|
| We hug and kiss and open gifts to Christmas songs
|
| But man I wish my k-
|
| «Is that you?»
|
| «I think that’s your phone»
|
| «Man, oh my God. |
| Hello?»
|
| «Merry Christmas Daddy!»
|
| «Oh baby girl. |
| Merry Christmas!» |